


Methos Chronicles 26

by Helis_von_Askir



Series: Methos Chronicles [26]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:15:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28672107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helis_von_Askir/pseuds/Helis_von_Askir
Summary: 300? Yeah, not so much. And a little detail about the Horsemen
Series: Methos Chronicles [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1350058
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	Methos Chronicles 26

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't know Highlander or its characters. I'm just having a bit of fun with them.

Leaving the movie theater, Richie made some fight moves without a sword. “Now that was some awesome fighting. You guys really did that back then, Old-timer?” he asked Methos who followed with MacLeod. The night was surprisingly warm and they strolled slowly towards their cars.

“We didn’t move in slow motion quite that much.” The old Immortal deadpanned.

Richie rolled his eyes at him. “Yeah, I figured that one out myself. But was it really like that?”

MacLeod burst out laughing while Methos gave him an unreadable look. “Are you seriously asking me if either of the 300 movies are historically arcuate?”

“Yeah, what’s the problem?” Richie looked between the two older Immortals, completely clueless.

MacLeod finally took pity on him. “Rich, those movies are loosely based on comics, and those are very loosely based on history.”

“Oh, okay. Pity thought, Artemisia was really hot.” Richie tried to save some of his dignity. It might help if he were to read a history book now and then, but they were so boring.

Methos smiled at him. “Oh, she’s a lot hotter in real life.”

“You met her?” Richie asked surprised. “Wait. Is she an Immortal?”

“Yes and yes.” Methos told him calmly. “Not that she was going by that name anymore. It wasn’t her real one anyway.”

“And she’s still around?” Richie wanted to know.

“Oh yes.” The grin spreading over Methos’s face was very telling.

“You two aren’t…?” Richie waggled his hands in a borderline obscene gesture.

“Not currently. And don’t do that, kid. It’s embarrassing to be seen with you, you know.” Methos chided him.

“Does Marique know that?” MacLeod spoke up. The fact that Methos was dating a fellow Immortal still wasn’t sitting well with him and Richie just didn’t get it. The old man was old enough to make his own decisions.

Methos shrugged. “Sure, why wouldn’t she? They’re friends. And you already met her, Highlander.”

“When?” Mac wanted to know.

“Gina and Robert’s party a couple of years ago. She was there with Kanan. Big guy, remember?” Methos told him.

“Oh yes,” Richie nodded. “Very big guy, they’re an item, right?”

Methos shrugged again. “On and off.”

“So, I don’t stand a chance right now?” Richie wanted to know looking crushed.

Methos smiled at him. “You never did, kid, you never did.”

Battle of Marathon, Greece, 490 BC

Methos’ arms felt like they were about to fall off. The battle had been raging for hours and it didn’t seem to be ending anytime soon. The Persians kept throwing new troops at the Greek defenders whenever it seemed like the Greeks were gaining an advantage.

How long could they hold the coast? Methos didn’t know but he would be damned if he just gave up. He had nothing against the Persians generally. But he didn’t like the conquering Greece. He liked Greece, all the philosophes, schools and knowledge to be had here. Persia simply didn’t have that and wasn’t interested in them anyway and Methos didn’t want so see that gone. Persia had other nice things and both worlds should just stay separated in his opinion. They just didn’t mix well.

“A glorious day, isn’t it?” Tak-Ne asked him during a momentary respite. There was a huge smile on his face.

“Glorious and long, my friend. I long for a good wine and a pretty girl.” Methos told him with a tired sight. He might just forgo the girl and take more of the wine.

Tak-Ne laughed at him. “You’re reading my mind, Methos. Come on, let’s get this done so we can indulge ourselves in all the wine we can drink and all the girls we can fuck.”

With that the two Immortals waded back into the thickest part of the battle, slaying enemies left and right, for there was still no shortage of them.

It had seemed impossible but they had done it, the Persian army was retreating. The Greeks had won the day. At a high price but they had won. For now.

“They’ll be back, won’t they?” Tak-Ne asked him when they finally did sit down with that bottle of wine. No girls though, they would have to wait until they were back at camp or Athens, camp followers usually weren’t the best cared for. But maybe one of the other soldiers would be willing to accommodate them later.

Methos shrugged. “Most likely. Darius isn’t one to give up. Not a price like Greece.”

“A pity, though, I like Persia just as well as I like Greece. I wish they could just live in peace with each other.” Tak-Ne said wistfully. “Although then we would miss out on some good battles.”

He was mirroring Methos’ earlier thoughts but he couldn’t let his friend know that. He had a repudiation to uphold. Therefore he scoffed at Tak-Ne’s words. “I seriously doubt that there will ever come a time when there isn’t some war waging somewhere. You’ll fight many battles yet to come, fear not, my friend.”

Present Day

When Methos and the others came into his house, they found Marique and Hera in the living room, enjoying a bottle of wine and talking about things Methos wasn’t sure he wanted to know about.

“Hey, speak of the devil. What are you doing in Paris?” Methos asked and gave them both a kiss on the lips.

“Super important conference in town. Marique said I could crash on the couch while you two are here.” Hera told him.

“You can even have the guest room.” Marique pointed out.

“Or wherever you would like to sleep.” Richie spoke up grinning all over his face. He kept staring at Hera like he had never seen a woman before. Hera had that effect sometimes. And the movie just no had not been helping.

“Ignore Richie, his hormones are driving him crazy.” Methos said dismissively. Joe and Mac stayed back trying not to fall on the floor laughing. Richie knew how to put his foot in.

“They do not.” The young Immortal protested.

“Yes, thy do. Now you better get home before we have to dump you under a cold shower.” Marique advised him with a smile. “She’s killed guys in the past for less than staring at her like you do now.”

“I did.” Hera agreed with a lazy nod. “But you’re their friend and you’re kind of cute in a clumsy, bumbling way. Therefore I will let it slide, this once.”

Richie gulped and blushed at the same time. “Thanks, I think.”

Marique rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop scaring the boy. I don’t have the time to undo all the damage you’d be causing him.”

“I’m not that bad.” Hera protested but smiled wickedly.

“Yes, you are.” Methos disagreed.

Battle of Salamis, Greece, 480 BC

“This won’t work. The Persians won’t be so foolish as to take their ships into the straight.” Tak-Ne pointed out. Ten years they had prepared for this day and still the Persians had all the advantages on their side.

“No, Artemisia wouldn’t be so foolish. Xerxes, on the other hand, is young and unwilling to listen to a woman. If there’s a chance at getting some glory, he’ll take it. His father’s shadow is too great to pass it up.” Methos replied with a sigh.

Tak-Ne shook his head. “I hope you’re right, my friend, or we’ll be slaves before the night is over.”

“I am, trust me, I am.” Methos said. He could understand why Hera was fighting for the Persians, they gave their women a lot more freedom than here in Greece and going by the size of their fleet alone, they couldn’t lose, but they didn’t know the straights and thy had lost once before, that was good for the Greek and their morale. The rest came down to luck or the gods, whatever one happened to believe in.

The big Persian ships did come into the straights. And the weather was on the side of the Greek to and several of the behemoths crashed against the sharp rocks and sank before they ever came close to where the Greeks were waiting for them.

But more than enough did reach them and soon ships from both sides were engaged in battle and crews were fighting from ship to ship. The fighting was intense and soon the wooden planks were slick with the spilt blood and intestines of the many dead and wounded. And still no side was willing give up.

Methos and Tak-Ne were fighting on one of the Persian ships farthest from the shore when they felt the presence of another of their kind and dispatching their opponents they looked around searching for the Immortal. They didn’t have to search for long. A ship passed close to them with Hera standing at the reiling watching the carnage giving them a salute before ordering her ships to withdraw.

“You didn’t tell me she was one of us.” Tak-Ne said. The ship was theirs now and they could take a moment to breath and have a little chat.

Methos shrugged. “It never came up. And is it really important? We won, she lost.”

Tak-Ne shook his head. “No, Xerxes lost, she didn’t. Look at her ships, barely a scratch on them. She held them back.”

“I can hardly blame her. She knew how this would end. Didn’t you?” Methos asked. “Come on, my friend, the knife work isn’t over yet.”

They spent the rest of the day killing Persians, only a handful were being taken alive as slaves. Most preferred death over having to serve their enemies. It made no difference to Methos.

“How long have you know Artemisia?” Tak-Ne wanted to know when they sat around a fire that night, enjoying the tasteless food and bad wine. Not that they tasted it, they were so exhausted that they wouldn’t have liked it any better if it had been ambrosia.

Methos sighed. “Her name is Hera, I met her centuries ago here in Greece. She lived in Athens as a priestess of Athena.”

“Then why is she fighting for the Persians then?” Tak-Ne wanted to know confused.

“Why shouldn’t she? You’re Egyptian and yet you fight for Greece. Why shouldn’t she fight for another realm, even against her own? It’s her decision.” Methos pointed out.

“You’re right of course. I was just curious.” Tak-Ne said holding his hands up in a calming manner. Methos hadn’t noticed that his voice had risen quite a bit during his last words. He had once thought women inferior too, when he had ridden with his brothers, he had thought everyone inferior then. But never before, and never after. He couldn’t understand it now. He truly had to have been mad.

Methos sighed and nodded, taking a large gulp from the wine. It wasn’t Tak-Ne’s fault that Methos and Hera were fighting on different sides this time. Maybe once this was over and some sort of peace was restored he could visit her in Persia. It had been a long time since he had spoken with her.

Present Day

“Artemisia knew how to command. If Xerxes had listened to her council about Salamis he would probably have conquered Greece eventually.” Methos finished.

“Nice to see at least one person here agreeing with me.” Hera muttered. “Xerxes was smart enough to listen to me afterwards. And a lot of good it did him in regards to Greece.”

“But he never conquered Greece.” Mac pointed out.

“And? He had all of Persia. What did he need Greece for? That was his father’s pet-project, not his.” Hera explained. “He only went there because he thought he had an obligation to his father to succeed where he had failed. Thankfully I got a priest to back me up on talking him out of it eventually.”

“And you guys don’t hate each other? Not even back then?” Richie asked confused.

Methos scoffed. “No, we never let something like a little war get between a good friendship. Empires rise and fall all the time but good friends are a lot harder to come by.”

Hera nodded in agreement.

“But how could you fight for a Persians?” Mac just couldn’t let it rest, could he?

“Why shouldn’t I? They at least didn’t treat me like dirt.” Hera told him.

“But Greece was your home.” MacLeod pointed out.

Hera laughed humorlessly. “It was where I was born, it was never my home.”

“But to attack them. Kill and burn everything. How can you justify it?” Mac insisted.

Hera looked at him questioningly. “Why would I justify it?”

“But…but it was wrong!” Mac sputtered.

“According to whom? You? You think everyone has to live according to what you think is right and wrong? Tell me, Highlander, how’s the air up there?” Hera wanted to know. She didn’t anger lightly but once you got on her wrong side it was hard to change that.

“Up where?” MacLeod asked confused.

“Your high horse. Be careful you don’t fall off of it.” Hera told him coldly.

“I’m not sitting on a high horse.” Mac protested. “It’s just that I can’t understand how you two can be so blasé about what you did back then.”

“Oh, and you think you would have been a saint living in the Bronze Age?” She turned to Joe who merely stared at her trying to sink into the floor. “You want a little something for your Chronicles?” Sometimes it was easy to forget just how dangerous Immortals could be. Hera was doing a good job of reminding them of it just now.

“Hera, let it be. He isn’t worth it.” Methos told her calmly. He really didn’t want another drama with MacLeod just because he was too narrow-minded to consider different points of view.

Hera held up a hand to stop him from whatever else he wanted to say. “No, no, I want him to know.”

Arabian Desert, outside the Horsemen camp, ca. 1000 BC

Staying in the shadows of the few trees growing this far out from the oasis, Hera waited patiently. She knew Methos had felt her. She had made sure that only he had felt her. And she was halfway confident that he wouldn’t bring his brothers along. Halfway. Gripping the poorly made short sword in her hand she kept working on keeping calm to convince Methos to help her. He wouldn’t take her seriously if she was raving like a mad-woman.

It had been a gamble coming here. If she had misjudged Methos then she would pay for it dearly. But she didn’t think so. It had only been two hundred years. He would help her, he hat to, if only to have some hold over her for later.

The presence of another Immortal washed over suddenly. But only one. Suppressing a relieved sigh she waited until she could see Methos come towards her on foot, also a sword in hand.

“Now, this is a surprise.” He said when he finally saw her. “What brings the mighty priestess to our humble camp? And in such a state?” he let his gaze travel up and down her body, taking in her rough clothing and low quality sword. He wasn’t impressed.

“I’ve run into some…problems.” Hera said after a moment. “I’ve been living with a nomadic tribe not far from here.”

“And they found out what you are and drove you off?” Methos asked uninterested. “It happens.”

“Not quite. Another tribe attacked us. Those who weren’t killed were taken as slaves. I want them back.” Hera told him.

“Heartbreaking.” Methos commented bored. “Why should I care?”

“We had gold, a lot of it. It’s yours if you help me, I don’t care about it.” Hera offered him.” I only want my people.”

“How generous. Do you even know where this tribe is now?” Methos wanted to know, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He was interested but not willing to admit it just yet. First they had to agree on the real price. The gold was for his brothers.

“I do.” Hera said with a forced calm.

Methos started to laugh unpleasantly. “You were one of those taken as slaves, weren’t you? Not a pleasant experience, if I remember correctly. Especially not for a beauty like you.”

Hera forced a shrug. It had been two moons of hell but he didn’t need to have that spelled out to him. “What of it? I escaped. Now, name your price.”

Methos sighed dramatically. “You take all the joy out of this, but fine, my price it that you owe me a favor. One day I’ll come to you for help and you’ll grant it, no questions asked.”

Hera nodded icily. She didn’t like owing anyone anything but truth was she had been expecting him to ask for another sort of payment, the sort men usually wanted from woman, one she found particularly unpleasant right now. “Agreed.”

“Now, then, tell me about this tribe.” Methos said with a dangerous smile and sat down on the sand, his sword across his knees. After a moment Hera joined him.

Present Day

“You told him to attack Cassandra’s camp?” MacLeod seemed beyond shocked.

“I wanted my people back and I wanted revenge. I didn’t care how I got either of it.” Hera shrugged. “And I didn’t care what happened to the people in that other tribe. In fact, I rather hoped they would all be massacred. And the boys didn’t disappoint. Aside from Cassandra. I really don’t know why he insisted to keep her as his pet.”

“Do you know what he did to her?” Mac wanted to know angry.

“The same the men of her tribe did to me. I’m not a fool, MacLeod. Unlike you, I know how the world works, especially back then. Far better than you apparently.” Hera pointed out.

“Does Cassandra know?” Joe asked quietly.

“I wouldn’t assume so, no.” Hera sounded completely indifferent and she was. What did she care about that other woman? “Unless you told her, Methos.”

Methos shook his head. “The topic never came up.”

“I have to tell her.” Mac started pacing like a caged lion. He was on his way into one of his usual righteous moods.

Hera shrugged. “Go ahead. I’m not afraid of Cassandra and her little bag of tricks.”

“Well, that was interesting.” Marique commented once they were in bed. Hera was in her own room, claiming that she still had work to do and didn’t want any distractions. The others had returned to their respective homes.

Methos sighed. “You know Hera, I’m surprised she hadn’t rubbed that little detail in the first time they had met. Maybe Kanan told her to be nice and not to do it.”

“But he doesn’t believe that Cassandra is at fault.” Marique pointed out.” For him she is without fault. He’ll tell himself she didn’t know or didn’t understand or something like that.”

“Yeah, I would worship her too if she’d seduced me as a kid.” Methos said sarcastically.

“Oh, don’t be gross.” Marique chided. “She played her cards and she played them well. And all it cost her was a kiss and flashing some naked skin. And now she has a guy fighting her battles for her whenever she wants him to.”

Methos smiled in the dark. “I really hope she’s smart enough to lie to him. The Highlander always looks like a kicked puppy when someone disappoints his ridiculously high moral values.”

Marique laughed and then boxed him in the shoulder. “You are impossible.”

Methos grinned. “Yes, I am.”

“Tell me about Athens then.” Marique demanded.

“Not much to tell.” Methos hedged. “How do you even know about that? Did Hera tell tales?

Marique smiled. “She didn’t have to. And I still want to know.”

Methos sighed. “Alright.”

Athens, Greece, ca. 1250 BC

Methos stood in a long line of chained men, silently fuming. How dare they treat him like this? Oh, he had been a slave before, but not since he rode with his brothers. The Greek would come to rue the day they had dared to put him in this slave market. He would cut them all down. Once he was free.

His wonderful musings of bloody revenge were rudely interrupted by the sudden presence of another of his kind. Methos forced himself to become utterly calm. Whoever this Immortal was, he would regret coming for his head. That the was chained and unarmed didn’t worry him. He had walked away victorious from worse situations.

“Now, this is unexpected.” Tyrael said when she came to stand in front of him. “Though I have to say I rather like this set-up.”

Methos sneered at her. “Fuck you, Tyrael.” He had nothing against the woman, quite on the contrary, but he didn’t like to stand in front of her chained like a dog.

Tyrael smiled at him. Oh, how he loved that smile. Then she slapped him across the face, hard. “You would like that, don’t you?”

“Nice to see you too, old friend?” Methos tried. Maybe she would just buy him and then let him go if he was nice to her. Or maybe not, she didn’t seem to be in a much better mood than himself, she was just better at hiding it.

“Indeed. Good so see you haven’t lost your humor, you’re going to need it.” Tyrael informed him calmly.

“Why? Are you going to hand me over to your men?” Methos wanted to know. He wouldn’t put it past her. Those brutes she had with her looked like they didn’t care what they got their hands on as long was it wasn’t walking on all fours.

“Tempting, but I have other plans for you.” Tyrael informed him calmly.

“What plans?” Methos didn’t like the sound of that. She might not take his head, there was too much history connecting the two of them, not even his deeds over the last few centuries could wash that away, but she knew other ways of hurting him, and hurting him bad, make him beg for his death, even if only for a temporary one.

“That will be a surprise.” Tyrael told him and then turned to the slaver to haggle over the price.

At first he was amused but then she got the price lower and lower until it became insulting. And that idiot slaver didn’t even realize that he was being ripped off.

“One hundred denari, I have never been sold this cheaply.” Methos fumed. He was worth at least ten times that on a bad day.

Tyrael shrugged unconcerned as she led the way. “You’ll get over it, you always do.”

“Whatever.” Methos flexed his hands, testing the bonds holding him. He was being flanked by two guards while a third made a way for Tyrael through the throngs of people. Methos wasn’t quite sure what position she had here but she had to be influential. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going? And don’t tell me it’s a surprise.”

Tyrael smiled over her shoulder “Then I won’t. But it’s not far now.”

They arrived at the temple complex soon after. The guards bowed respectfully to Tyrael and they passed right through the gate.

“You’re a fucking priestess?” Methos asked surprised. One of the guards hit him over the head for his foul mouth.

“Don’t look so shocked, I remember you being a priest more than once.” Tyrael pointed out.

“Yeah, to real gods, not those wusses they have here.” Methos sneered, daring the guard to hit him again. Suddenly he froze. “You bitch, what is this?” He demanded to know. There was another Immortal close by.

Tyrael led him into one of the buildings at the back, her home, it seemed. There was another woman waiting there, sword in hand.

“Who is she?” Methos asked nodding at the unknown woman.

“This is my student Hera.” Tyrael introduced her. “You will teach her.”

Methos looked between the two women and laughed. In a flash Tyrael drew her sword and held it at his throat. “Be very careful now, _old friend_. This may be Holy Ground, but I can drag you off somewhere else any time I wish and end your life for good quite easily.” She told him calmly.

Methos shrugged carefully. “Fine, and what do you want me to teach her exactly? What can I teach her that you can’t? Aside from the obvious, of course.”

Tyrael smiled at him coldly. “I’m sure you’ll think of something, aside from that.”

“Tyrael.” Hera spoke up. “I don’t need…him. And how good of a fighter can he be? He’s a slave.”

“Indeed.” Tyrael agreed. “And you’ll learn to fight him and to defeat him.”

Methos scoffed. “I won’t stay long enough for hat. Unless you plan to keep him in chains constantly. Wait, that could actually be fun.”

Hera gave him a disgusted look. “I think not.”

“Your loss.” Methos smirked.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Horseman.” Hera hissed. “You might regret it.”

“So you know how I am. Then don’t call me slave ever again.” Methos yanked his chains. The guards flinched, the immortal women didn’t.

“Why not?” Hera sneered. “It’s what you are. You don’t look very dangerous now.”

Methos grinned. “Get this chains off of me and I’ll correct your opinion of me.”

Tyrael chuckled. “I already see that the two of you will go along great.”

At least they gave him a room for himself. Tiny, bare and with a couple of guards on outside, but still. Probably to keep him away from the other slaves, afraid he would murder them for fun. Unfortunately, the one window was too small to slip through. And there was nothing he could use as a weapon, only a couple of blankets to serve as a bad. Tyrael knew him too well. Anything else he would use to fight his way out of here, even if this was Holy Ground. Well, maybe he would not risk that quite yet.

“You, slave!” one of the guards called from the hallway. “The priestess demands that you take a bath.”

“And will she be joining me?” Methos asked with a lascivious smile. He knew he stank, being locked up in a cage with a dozen other men and no way to wash or even answer nature’s call in private did that to a person. He just didn’t like to be reminded of that.

“Mind your tongue, slave, or lose it.” The guard threatened.

“I’d like to see you try.” Methos challenged. He might not be able to kill on Holy Ground but he could goad one of the guards into killing him. It might just get him out of here, if Tyrael was too busy to get his body, or that student of her. And if he lost his tongue, it would grow back, it had before.

The Buzz announced one of them. “Being difficult, I see.” Tyrael stated.

“Part of my charm.” Methos pointed out.

Tyrael rolled her eyes at him. “Get cleaned up or you’ll sleep with the goats until you do.”

“Well, if you put it that way. I wouldn’t want to confuse your boys when they go for their enjoyment.” Methos said, conceding defeat and stepping out of the room.

He would never admit it but those regular baths Tyrael was forcing him to take were growing on him. It felt good to not stink to high havens and be covered in dirt from head to toe.

Hera was another matter. He didn’t like her, and that feeling was mutual. It was a good thing that they trained in private. Every time at least one of them ended up bloody and neither wanted to give up and concede defeat.

“Kronos would enjoy breaking you.” Methos told her one day during one of their fights.

“I’m shaking.” Hera replied.” But he isn’t here, is he?”

“He could be. If I don’t return to camp soon, he’ll start looking for me.” He threatened. “Not to mention Caspian. He’ll cut you to pieces.”

“Are you going to talk me to death now?” Hera demanded to know. “If you want to defeat me, you have to do better than that.”

Methos smiled coldly at her. “Whatever it takes.” With that he attacked.

Methos had been in Athens for good two years when Tyrael came into his room one evening, throwing a little purse at him where he was lying on his blankets.

“What’s that for?” he wanted to know.

“Hera and I will be leaving in the morning, you are free to go.” she informed him.

Methos sat up. “What happened?”

Tyrael leaned against the wall. “One of the priests saw something he shouldn’t have and I killed him. I hid the body but he’ll be missed soon. And we’ve been here longer than is safe anyway.”

“You could take me with you.” Methos pointed out. He didn’t like being a slave any more than two years ago but he was no longer angry with Tyrael or Hera. This break from the war and raiding, from the world as a whole, had been good for him.

“How long would that work?” Tyrael wanted to know. “You need to return to your brothers or break with them for good. And that would mean taking their heads. And I don’t think you’re ready for that.”

Methos sighed. “No, they’re my brothers.” He hefted the purse. “That won’t cover a horse and a sword.”

“Then you better think hard what’s more important to you.” Tyrael smiled. “I’m sure you’ll come up with a good story for your brothers why you are on foot. And I suggest you leave before us.”

Nodding Methos put the purse next to him. “Good think I don’t have much packing to do.”

Present Day

Marique laughed so hard she was almost falling from the bed. Her reaction wasn’t really surprising for someone who knew him, but still, she didn’t have to laugh that hard.

“Feeling better now?” He asked when she calmed down.

“I’m sorry,” she kept giggling. “But, I mean, going from big bad boy to docile gentleman in only two years, it’s just…” she devolved into laughter again.

“It wasn’t quite like that.” Methos protested but he could feel a smile tugging at his lips. “It may have mellowed me a bit, but I was still plenty bad.”

“Oh, really? And when did you actually start to stop hating Hera and became friends with her?” Marqiue wanted to know.

“Well, that actually took a really long time.” Methos replied. “I mean, we grew less antagonistic towards each other over time, but friends? By that must have been after some time after Salamis.”

Susa, Persia, 462 BC

Riding calmly by the gate sentries, Methos let his gaze travel over Susa, one of the four main cities of the Persian Empire. The people here were a wild mix from a thousand different places, with a thousand different tongues. And all could be heard spoken on every street and at every corner.

Gods, but he loved it.

No one gave him a second glance as he made his way deeper into the city. And why should they? He was one traveler among many. And he had gotten rid of his Greek look a while back. No need to tempt fate.

He had liked living in Greece, but it had become stifling lately and it was always better to leave a place before one was no longer welcome. And there were only so many years he could add to his appearance. The Greeks were many things but tolerant of things so vastly different from themselves as Immortals were was not one of these things. Methos frankly couldn’t remember a place or time that had been different.

There were many places where a traveler could stay the night, but Methos’ goal was the palace where he hoped for a friendly welcome. The war against Greece hadn’t been that long ago and he hoped Hera wouldn’t hold it against him still.

At the gate he gave a name Hera would be familiar with and settled down to wait. He doubted his message would reach her immediately, or that she would call him in immediately. And indeed, he had to wait until the sun was setting before he was led inside.

The interior of the palace was lavish, lots of gold and painted walls with jewels stuck to it. He kind of liked it, after all the understated Greek architecture.

The room Methos was escorted to was huge, the throne room for the king, though he wasn’t here at the moment, hadn’t been for quite a while.

On a simple chair at the far end, in front of the throne, sat Hera, looking gorgeous in a long, flowing dress of dark green, adorned with jewels, rings and necklaces. Her luxurious hair held back by a diadem studded with diamonds. The total opposite from the last time he saw her, dressed for war.

She dismissed everyone attending her when he came closer, only an elderly woman stayed at her position behind Hera, her body slave, of course.

“Well, it has been a while.” She greeted him.

Methos inclined his head. “It has. I hope to find you well.”

Hera smiled. A real smile, Methos was glad to see. “Very well.” She turned to the slave behind her. “Have them prepare food and drink for our guest.” The woman bowed and withdrew swiftly but without hurry.

“I apologize for arriving unannounced, but I hadn’t known you were here until I was well on the way.” Methos told her.

“What? The name wasn’t a giveaway?” she wanted to know.

“There are many women named after the famous Artemisia.” Methos pointed out.

Hera inclined her head and stood up. “You have a point there. Now, I assume you’ll wish to refresh yourself before we eat. You could use a bath or three.”

Methos ran a hand over his rather shaggy beard. “I could do with shave or three, I guess.”

“And new clothes, these are ready to walk off on their own. I can’ have you be seen like this at my court.” Hera pointed out.

“They’re not that bad.” Methos protested, looking down at himself.

“Yes, they are.” Hera insisted and clapped her hands. A young boy hurried in and stopped right inside the door.

“Escort our guest to the baths, and prepare fresh clothes for him, then burn his old ones.” Hera instructed.

The boy bowed and gave Methos a questioning look. With a sigh Methos bowed to Hera too and followed the boy out. His clothes weren’t that bad.

Freshly bathed, shaved, oiled and the gods knew what else, Methos adjusted his new clothes as the slave boy led him down yet another corridor. The rooms they arrived in were sumptuous, richly appointed and with a view across most of the city.

Hera was sitting at a table laden with food and wine, leaning back in her chair, enjoying her wine. She wore only a loose dress, no jewels, revealing more than hiding her body underneath.

“Your rooms.” Methos stated as she sat down opposite her. “I guess I should feel honored.”

“Do you like them?” she wanted to know, holding her cup out for one of the slaves to refill it. “My late husband did the design. He always thought the more the better.”

“Quite.” Methos replied politely. “So if your husband has already joined his ancestors why are you still here while the current king is…away?”

Hera smiled humorlessly. “The current king is a wise man who knows better than to get in my way. Besides, he prefers the company of our mighty ruler Artaxerxes, planning their next war against the Greek.”

“Oh, not again.” Methos exclaimed. “I thought they learned their lessons from Darius.”

“Hardly.” Hera’s smile grew. “Besides, now they have dear Themistocles on their side.”

Methos blinked at that. “Are you serious? Why? Don’t tell me those fools in Athens exiled him.”

“Nothing makes you enemies faster than success.” Hera pointed out smugly. “They exiled him years ago, it just took him a while to make his way to Babylon. He’s isn’t getting any younger, is he?”

“Huh, must have missed that.” Methos said. How by all the devils had he missed that?

Present Day

Hera returned to London a few days later. MacLeod had kept his distance during the rest of her stay. He hadn’t told Cassandra yet about what he had learned because he didn’t know where she was and Joe refused to tell him, suddenly, and very conveniently, remembering his oath of not interfering.

Methos wasn’t worried. Cassandra came after him, he’d deal with her permanently, as long as he could keep the Highlander out of the way. If she went after Hera, well, not even Cassandra was crazy enough to go after Hera, so that wasn’t a problem.

He was more worried about MacLeod getting it into his head that he had to do something about Hera. The Scot was just too righteous and stupid for his own good. Methos would need to have a word with Amanda, she could keep him sufficiently distracted until he forgot all about it. Yes, now that sounded like a good plan.

End


End file.
